There was a special buzz in the air at the Washington National Cathedral this past Sunday. It was the first Sunday following the sermon heard around the world, when Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde became a viral phenomenon for “preaching truth to power” at the prayer service for the nation. On January 21, Budde spoke directly to President Donald Trump seated before her, exhorting him to exercise mercy, including on behalf of LGBTQ+ youth, refugees, and immigrants. Trump has already unleashed a blitz of devastating policy actions and orders. Budde has been the only person many have seen truly stand up to Trump, putting voice and action to their own feelings of fear, distress, and dismay.

As I recently reported for Rolling Stone, the cathedral and Budde have a history of taking action to hold Trump accountable for trampling their spiritual values and in support of those who are harmed.

Rev. Jen Butler recently served as the national faith engagement director for the Harris-Walz campaign. I notice her snapping a selfie in front of the cathedral with a friend before attending services on Sunday. “I’ve never seen anything go this viral,” she tells me of Budde’s sermon. “She’s the first to really find her footing and show no fear,” Butler says. “The more we fear a tyrant, the more power they have, the more we stand up in compassion, the less power they have. She did what needs to be done, and we hope to see our elected leaders do the same, including Republicans.”

Inside the cathedral, there is a palpable sense of excitement among the thousands of gathered parishioners, with many finding their way into the same chairs that they had only viewed previously in video clips on their phones. With its gothic arches and towering grey stone walls, the world’s sixth-largest cathedral can be an intimidating space, especially for those for whom Sunday Eucharist is a relatively new experience or one that conjures unwelcome memories. But none of that seems to matter when the service gets underway.

Rev. Randy Hollerith, dean of the cathedral, opens the service with the unenviable task of letting the parishioners know that Budde is not here. “I know that some of you may have come hoping or expecting to see Bishop Budde here at the cathedral,” he says. But before he can say more, at the mention of Budde’s name, the crowd erupts first in applause, then cheers and hoots, followed by a ruckus and sustained standing ovation. If anyone was worried that there would be a backlash against Budde at the cathedral, they are clearly mistaken.

“We will bottle that up and leave it at her front door,” Hollerith says, seeming genuinely surprised and moved by the response. “As the shepherd of the flock of the diocese” Budde visits a different parish every Sunday, he explains of her absence, before getting the nearly two-hour service underway.

No one I speak with expresses disappointment at Budde’s absence. Instead, they seem to find more than they originally came for—not only the ability to demonstrate their support for Budde but also enjoying spending time in community with others who feel the same.

“I’m scared and I’m concerned,” Sue Watkins of Bethesda tells me standing outside of the cathedral. “We need to stand up against all the negative things that Trump is doing.” She wants to act but describes not knowing what to do or how to support those engaged in resistance. She’s not religious, but when she heard Budde’s words, she was moved. “She’s the only one speaking out,” Watkins says. “I just wanted to support the bishop.” Attending the service, Watkins says, is “a little thing, but I guess if we keep doing little things, they become bigger.”

Rev. Mitchell Felton is visiting from South Carolina. “I thought Bishop Budde gave one of the clearest depictions of moral leadership and moral clarity in a time where that is just not present,” he tells me. Rev. Felton attended the service at the invitation of his friend, Ian McCabe, who like many others I speak with, had never been to the cathedral before. “I thought it was very powerful and brave,” he says of Budde’s sermon. “She went out on a limb” and he came to demonstrate that he has her back.

A group of young women from George Washington University arrive side-by-side. Despite not being very religious, they frequently attend services, drawn to the cathedral by its progressivism, including the absence of homophobia typical of other denominations, and a sense of community. One of them, Claudia Elwell, tells me that she also wanted to come on this Sunday to support Budde, saying, “I find her comments very admirable.”

Elizabeth Sawyerr is from Sierra Leone. Her age is revealed only in the silver and white hairs accentuating her otherwise black dreadlocks. As a longtime parishioner of the cathedral, she doesn’t understand “what all the fuss was about,” she tells me, looking genuinely perplexed. “She did not insult the president at all. She was speaking from her heart. She was compassionate,” she says.

Joanne Popkin has lived in Washington, D.C., for 25 years and is a neighbor of the Rev. Canon Jan Naylor Cope, provost of the cathedral. After Budde’s sermon, Popkin wrote Cope a note thanking her. Popkin is out walking her dog around the cathedral and stops, eager to share her thoughts on Budde. “Oh my God!” she exclaims. “What’s wrong with mercy and compassion?! We need that! Isn’t that what made America great?!”

“Hate gets you nowhere,” she adds.

If We Are Silent, We Are Complicit

A little more than a week before she skyrocketed into the public zeitgeist, I interviewed Budde for Rolling Stone, after she presided over the funeral of President Jimmy Carter. She was eager to speak with me not only about Carter, but also about Trump. “Trump seeks to dismantle everything I stand for,” she told me. Then she told me about resistance.

She discussed her plans to organize, “to get political, find like-minded constituencies. We have to lobby, we have to show up and debate, all those things we have to do as people of faith, as part of a civic society.” Whether or not they’ll have an effect is another question, one she said is largely out of their control. “Every once in a while, in my 13 years as bishop the traditional media notices and gives us our proverbial 15 seconds,” she said, “Even Rolling Stone, if we’re lucky.”

“But the one thing I can control is I’m going to show up.” She then said, “As so many of our leaders have said, both politically and spiritually, if we are silent, then we are complicit.”

By preaching truth to power last week, Budde struck a nerve well beyond the faithful, connecting with a public hungry for action against Trump. Since delivering the sermon, Budde has been a guest on The View, CNN, and The Rachel Maddow Show. She’s been interviewed by Diane Rehm, photographed for The New Yorker, and has appeared in pretty much every major news outlet in the nation (and beyond). The cast of the new film Jimpa, about a gay father (John Lithgow) and transgender and non-binary teenager (Aud Mason-Hyde), weighed in at Sundance, where Mason-Hyde called Budde’s sermon “beautiful.” Steven Colbert teared up during his monologue about Budde. There are memes, T-shirts, and even cookies featuring Budde. In positive editorials and letters to the editor from California to Florida and New York, the response of people backing Budde has been overwhelming.